For Their Own Good
by mindfunk
Summary: Harry and Draco don't get along, but as fellow Order members they're going to have to find a way. Will an accident help them take that first step?


Title: For Their Own Good

Author: mindfunk

Rating: G/PG

Story type: one-shot, no 'ships

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything HP related, and I'm not making any money off of nicking HP people, places or things and writing a story about them.

Authot's note: This is my first HP fic. I haven't written fiction since before some of you whippersnappers were born, so don't expect too much. I'm really just trying to see if I can still write at all! If you like it, say so. If you hate it, say so. If you think it sucks or it's great or anywhere between - I don't care. Just give me some feedback. Thanks!

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Everyone knew that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were not friends. Their animosity was legendary, resulting in a school record for the most House points lost and detentions served for fighting, dueling and/or pranking each other. In this summer before their seventh year, the two now found themselves on the same side of the battle between the Dark and the Light, but that still didn't soften their attitudes toward one another. Harry was living at Grimmauld Place, which still served as headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. After refusing to take the Dark Mark and go on the run with his mother and Azkaban escapee father, Draco was living full time at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore had suggested that he spend the summer at Grimmauld Place, just for a change of scenery if for nothing else, but both Harry and Draco had insisted that hell would freeze over before they'd willingly share quarters. So, Draco flooed over when his presence was required, and other than that, the two boys tried to ignore the existence of the other.

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One evening after an Order meeting at Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore asked the two to assist Severus Snape by placing a store of healing potions and rare ingredients in what used to be Buckbeak's room, where a makeshift lab and infirmary were being set up. All of the boxes had to be carried by hand, as magic could damage the properties of the potions and ingredients. Shrugging off their outer robes, the two boys glowered at each other and began the arduous task of hauling boxes up four stories to the top floor. They had to make 5 or 6 trips apiece up and down the stairs until they were finally down to the last load. As they crossed the room to place the boxes on the worktable, they heard the door swing shut behind them.

"What was that?" asked Harry, frowning at his companion.

"How should I know? This is your bloody house, Potter," responded Draco.

Harry rolled his eyes and crossed to the door. Trying the doorknob, he found it locked.

"What the hell?" he murmured.

"Get out of the way, you fool. I'm not surprised you can't even open a door, what with those weak little twigs you call arms," Draco said with a sneer.

"You're one to talk, Malfoy," Harry spit back. "You're not exactly built yourself."

Draco pushed roughly past him and grabbed the doorknob. It rattled under his hand, but didn't turn at all.

"Bloody hell, Potter," Draco moaned. "You've managed to lock us in!"

"I did not!" Harry said hotly. "I never touched the door! You probably bumped it on your way in and it swung shut behind you."

"I did no such thing," Draco replied nastily. Running a hand through his hair, mussing the finely gelled strands, he sighed. "Fine. Whatever. It doesn't matter if you don't want to admit it. Just use your wand and unlock the door."

"Why don't you use your wand and unlock it, Malfoy," Harry said in the same tone.

"Because, you idiot, it's with my robe downstairs!" Draco replied with a glare.

"So is mine, you arse!" Harry shot back.

The two boys stood there, angrily staring each other down, before they simultaneously turned toward the door and began to pound on it with their fists.

"Help! We're locked in!" Harry yelled.

"Somebody come open this sodding door right now!" bellowed Draco.

They continued to bang and yell for several minutes, but heard no response from below.

"You don't think they've all left already, do you?" Harry asked.

"They'd better not have all left already, unless they want to be hexed into oblivion when I finally get out of this room," growled Draco.

"Well," said Harry, rubbing the sides of his hands, which were sore from all the pounding. "Professor Dumbledore knows we're here. I'm sure he's still down there somewhere, and when we don't come back down, he'll come check on us." He turned his back to the door and slid down to the floor, propping his elbows on his knees and continuing to massage his hands.

"I don't have all night to stand around and wait for that old fool to tear himself away from his tea and precious sherbet lemons long enough to notice we're gone! I want to get out of here now!" Draco said forcefully. He began to pace restlessly back and forth amongst the various boxes and sheet covered furnishings, making a path from the door to the window. He was absently rubbing his own hands where he'd been drumming them against the solid oak door.

"Just relax, Malfoy," Harry said with a yawn. "It's no big deal. We'll be out of here soon enough."

Draco paused long enough to shoot a venomous glare at his rival, and then resumed pacing.

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After 5 minutes or so of his pacing, Draco started tugging at his collar, looking agitated.

"Isn't it hot in here? Aren't you hot, Potter?"

Harry answered from his spot on the floor, eyes closed, head leaning back against the door.

"No. Maybe you're hot because you won't sit down and relax like I suggested."

Draco stopped messing with his shirt collar long enough to shoot Harry a venomous glare, then he stalked over to the window.

"I'm opening the bloody window. We need some cool air before we suffocate in this rotten house," he said.

Draco began tugging on the window sash, and increased his force when nothing happened.

"You're not going to get it open, Malfoy," said Harry mildly.

"Why not?" grunted the Slytherin, tendons standing out on his arms, face reddening with the strain of trying so hard to get the window open.

"Because they're spelled shut."

"Draco stopped his efforts and turned back toward Harry. "They're what?!"

"Spelled shut. This is headquarters, remember? What good would it be to have all these protective wards and charms if we don't bother to lock the doors and windows?"

Draco looked at him incredulously for a long moment, before resuming his pacing and muttering to himself under his breath.

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Forty-five minutes later, Harry finally broke the silence.

"Malfoy, why don't you just sit down and relax? It's not like we'll be in here forever."

Draco, who was still pacing the now worn stretch of carpet between the door and the window, whirled around to face his companion.

"That's easy for you to say, Potter!" he snapped.

"Huh?" said Harry. "That doesn't even make sense. What are you on about?"

Draco came forward to stand above Harry, hands on hips.

"Perfect Potter could never be missing for too long, right? His precious Gryffindor friends would immediately notice and move heaven and earth to track him down. It's a miracle they don't start organizing a search party when you take a little too long in the loo," Draco spat.

"Hey," said Harry, rising to his feet and brushing off the seat of his jeans. "At least I have friends and people who care about me enough to miss me!"

Draco's eyes widened fractionally, and Harry thought he saw something in them he'd never seen before. Before he could be sure of what he'd seen, Malfoy turned away and went over to the window.

Harry leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, trying to sort out what had just happened. He'd been expecting Malfoy to hurl back another insult and continue their fight, as per usual, but instead the other boy had almost looked hurt by Harry's words. Surely he was mistaken, right? Since when was Draco Malfoy hurt by anything Harry Potter said to him?

Harry chewed on his lip thoughtfully, as Draco started to pace again. Other than his the sound of his footfalls muffled by the worn rug, they spent the next few minutes in silence. Finally, Harry couldn't take it anymore. He walked up behind Malfoy and grabbed his shoulders, spinning the blond around to face him.

"Why are you pacing, Malfoy?" he asked quietly. Why are you so uncomfortable being locked in here? Besides the obvious, I mean."

Draco stepped back, wrenching himself from Harry's grip.

"Why do you think something's wrong, Potter?" he said, his voice not as strong or confident as he'd hoped.

The two boys looked at each other for a moment, before Draco broke the gaze and looked down at the floor. He crossed his arms over his stomach defensively, and his shoulders slumped a little.

"Malfoy," Harry said, "know we're not friends, but now that we're both in the Order, we'll have to be able to work together and trust each other. Dumbledore has been on me to make an effort to get along with you, and I know Snape has done the same thing to you. Maybe we should just take this opportunity to try and ... I don't know, learn to understand each other a little better?"

Draco looked up at him. "Do you really think you could ever understand me, Potter?" he asked, a ghost of his trademark smirk sliding across his features.

Harry answered it with a small grin of his own. "I doubt it, Malfoy, but you know how I am about lost causes."

Draco smiled weakly, and sat down on the nearest box. He wrapped his arms around himself again, as if he were cold, and jiggled his right leg frantically.

"Malfoy... Draco," Harry said, sitting down on a nearby box with a sigh. "Something is obviously wrong. You don't normally fidget or pace, and you don't tend to get all worked up over minor annoyances like this."

"You call this a minor annoyance?" Draco asked, an unreadable look on his face.

"Yeah, I do," Harry replied. "I've seen you be calm playing Quidditch in a thunderstorm. You've been calm facing down Filch after hours. You didn't even get worked up when Neville blew up his cauldron all over you and the potion ate holes in your clothes! I can't understand why having to sit and wait for someone to let us out has you so upset. Did you have a hot date or something?" Harry said, trying for humor.

Draco cleared his throat and looked at the floor. After a few moments of silence, he mumbled something unintelligible.

"What?" Harry asked. "I couldn't understand you."

Draco looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Jumping to his feet, he went to the window and looked out again.

"I'm claustrophobic," he said, without turning around.

"Oh," said Harry. He didn't know what else to say.

"I have been ever since I was 6," Malfoy went on, turning to look at Harry. "I snuck in after my father when he went to one of the Manor's secret rooms to... well, you can guess what he was there to do."

Harry nodded, knowing full well what kind of thing Lucius Malfoy would need to go to a secret room to do.

"He was so absorbed in what he was doing that he never noticed me following him or hiding in the room. When he left, he resealed it and I couldn't get out."

"How long were you stuck in there?" Harry asked sympathetically.

"All night and most of the next day," Draco said, slowly walking back to where he'd been sitting before and sinking back down onto the box.

"Wow. That's a long time for a little kid to be locked in someplace, all alone," said Harry.

"Tell me about it," said Draco with a shudder. "The worst part was being locked in with all those Dark artifacts. My father had a collection of things you couldn't even dream of, things that just radiated evil and malevolence. There was only one torch, so it was dark and spooky to begin with, but being surrounded by the feeling of such evil..." His voice trailed off, and he shuddered again.

The boys sat in silence for a moment, each lost in thought, before Draco shook his head abruptly and tried to change the subject.

"What about you, Potter?"

"What about me?"

"Well," Draco began, trying to think of a way to ask without breaking the fragile truce they'd established. "You spent some time locked in a small space as a child, didn't you?" he said carefully.

"Oh, you mean my cupboard? Yeah, the Dursleys used to lock me in there all the time when I was a kid. After I got my Hogwarts letter they moved me into my cousin's second bedroom, but they still locked me in when they got mad at me," he said with a shrug.

"Aren't you even a little claustrophobic after that?" asked Draco, genuinely curious.

"Not really," answered Harry. "I felt pretty safe in there, so I didn't mind it so much. When I was in my cupboard, Dudley and his gang couldn't beat me up, and my aunt and uncle weren't yelling at me or forcing me to do a lot of chores. I could just sit there and daydream without any interruptions. It was kinda nice," he said, staring off into space a bit, lost in the memories.

Draco gave a noncommittal noise in reply, and Harry looked at him. Malfoy was fidgeting again. Now that he knew the Slytherin was claustrophobic, it was obvious that he was having a hard time coping with their confinement. Harry decided to try and distract him.

"Know what's funny, Draco?" he said. "Sometimes I used to imagine these long, involved stories about witches and wizards and magic. I'd have all these complicated plots, with heroes and dragons and all that stuff."

"You did?" Draco said, a small smile playing about his lips.

"Yeah, I did. I made the mistake of telling Dudley one of my stories once, back when I was 5 or so. He told his parents, and they went crazy. I didn't understand why it was such a big deal for me to pretend about things like that, but they made me swear I'd stop."

"Muggles," Draco said with a snort of disgust. He was holding himself a little less tightly and seemed a little less anxious as he listened to Harry, so the Gryffindor kept talking.

"Well, I finally understood when Hagrid came to collect me. That was when I found out how much my aunt and uncle hated magic and everything to do with wizardry. I probably scared them witless when I started talking about all of that. They must have thought someone had told me something, or that I was having prophetic dreams or something like that," he said, laughing.

Draco couldn't help but laugh himself. That's when they both heard footsteps on the other side of the door, and a voice said, "Boys? Are you in there?"

"Yes!" they cried out in unison, both leaping to their feet and heading to the door.

"We're locked in, Professor," said Harry.

"We don't have our wands! Can you please let us out, sir?" Draco said imploringly.

Seconds later the door swung open, revealing Albus Dumbledore in the doorway. He stood there, eyes twinkling merrily.

"I do say, boys. The two of you certainly do manage to find adventure even amidst the most mundane of everyday tasks," the old man said. He smiled at them each in turn, and then walked back toward the stairs. The two boys both tried to get through the door at the same time, bumping into each other in the process and getting stuck in the doorway.

"Er, sorry," Draco said with a small smile, stepping back. "Go ahead."

"No, it's ok. You go first," said Harry with a smile of his own. He stepped back and gestured for the Slytherin to go first.

Draco's smile grew a little wider. He gave the Gryffindor a sharp nod, and stepped through the doorway into the hall. As he headed toward the stairs, he stopped and turned back.

"Um, Pot-...Harry?" he said tentatively.

Harry couldn't help but grin.

"Yeah, Draco?"

Draco met his eyes with his own.

"Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome," Harry said in return. The two stood and looked at each other until the moment turned awkward, and then Draco turned back towards the stairs.

"Hey, Draco?" Harry asked, following a few steps behind Draco, who paused on the stair and turned back with a raised eyebrow. They fell into step, and Harry continued.

"Mrs. Weasley made some biscuits earlier. Do you want to stay a while and have some biscuits and tea, maybe play a game or two of chess?" he asked, unsure of what the response would be.

Draco gave him the first genuine smile Harry had ever seen on his face, and nodded.

"Sure, Harry. I can stay a while."

The two boys smiled at each other as they continued down to the kitchen. After they'd descended the stairs to the lower floors, Dumbledore stepped out of one of the empty rooms, smiling to himself. He pointed his wand toward the door that had mysteriously trapped the boys in the room together and said softly, "_finite incantatum" _before sticking his wand up his sleeve and starting down to the kitchen himself. After all, the Headmaster wasn't one to pass up a good biscuit and a spot of tea.

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R&R!


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